Ana
She’s a Gothic cathedral,
ribcage folding in on her lungs,
shoulderblades sharpened
on 8x10s
of stray cat girls with coat-hanger hips.
Her spires have forgotten
they reach for heaven.
Someone untied the knot
at the end of her spine
and the beads are falling
off their string.
Someone scooped out her heart
with empty-spoon jaws.
She’s a forest of
brittle branches breaking.
Nic Carlson is a writer of both poetry and prose whose pieces focus on LGBT themes, the interaction between humanity and nature, and emotional connection. They are a native of Kansas, recently transplanted to the east coat by way of the frozen north.